Ares

Miss Felicity.

Can’t stop thinking about her.

She makes me okay.

Doesn’t tell me I have to talk to the cameras. Doesn’t make me feel dumb when I get the words wrong. Sees my heart, and that’s enough for her.

Hope she’s having a good last day at her clinicals.

That she gets a job offer.

She’s good. If I get anxious about my ankle not healing fast enough, she knows. She knows me. Calms me. Helps me.

I frown.

Makes sense now. Why her ex doesn’t want to let her go.

Because she’s fucking perfect.

Haven’t heard from him since late last week. Hope he got the message.

“No more frowning,” Gracie orders.

She’s baking cookies at Manning’s place. Her place. Loki’s sticking to my side, like he’s afraid I’m going to leave him. Just left him here one night—Sunday night—and he’s been clingy ever since.

By law, probably belongs here. But laws and hearts don’t always mix.

Loki hands me a pair of women’s underwear.

“Ohmydog, bad monkey.” Gracie dives around the island and rescues them, shoving them in her pocket.

I shrug at Loki. Women don’t like their underwear in public.

He chirps.

My phone vibrates on the counter.

Felicity.

It’s a selfie. Her standing outside Mink Arena in that big puffy coat, her reddish-gold hair blowing in her face.

I pull out my crutches. Places to be. People to see.

Hate the crutches, but she’s right. Ankle’s getting better. Doc’s talking rehab Monday.

I can rehab the shit out of getting better.

Just need the chance.

Loki scrambles up my arm and perches on my shoulder. I pat Gracie’s head. Loki steals a cookie. And we’re off.

We get to the arena and take the elevator to the top floor.

Thrusters business offices.

Don’t need to ask where Felicity’s at.

Can hear her.

“I think you have me mixed up with some other cat who can help you,” she’s saying as Lucy. “I’m not tricking anyone into anything.”

“Sshh. Nobody’s trying to trick anybody.”

“Says the man who mails four thousand dick cookies to his sister’s ex-boyfriend,” Tim the Goat replies.

“And don’t forget the video he mailed to the one guy’s grandma!” Lucy adds.

“You won’t let us, you mangy cat,” Harold says.

“You’re a PR nightmare, Mr. Murphy.” Jenna Tucker’s standing between them in the video production room. She’s smiling.

Felicity’s not.

Don’t much care if Murphy’s smiling or not. Still walking around with a stick up his butt.

The flat end. Not the handle.

I swing into the door, and all of them look at me. Felicity smiles. Hi.

My heart swells like a balloon stuck on a helium tank. Might float me away.

Yeah.

I got it bad.

Jenna moves forward. “Ares. Good. Let’s get started.”

Felicity folds her arms over her chest. Crease between her eyes. Cloudy. Worried.

I crutch over to her side.

“Do you know—” she starts.

I silence her with a finger.

I know what they want us to do.

They want Felicity to use her talents to make us look good.

All of us.

Gonna have her talk for me and show Murphy’s good side at the same time.

Bugged Jenna all this week with videos of Felicity from her club until she finally told me she was waiting on management’s approval and an NDA from legal to bring Felicity in and see what she could do.

Good thing too.

Otherwise I was bringing in Mrs. Murphy and Felicity’s baby book.

The one with her all in Thrusters gear.

“Sit,” I tell Felicity.

She looks at the three chairs. Padded seats. Wooden backs. “Nick, you get the floor.” She tests all three, points me to the least wobbly, and positions a second for me to prop my ankle on.

Murphy mutters something none of us need to hear to interpret.

Felicity takes the third chair. “This is stupid without my puppets,” she says.

“Pretty sure you can make do,” Nick replies. He’s not wrong, but he’s being a fucking snarkhead. “It’s just a test run.”

“Those cameras aren’t rolling, are they?” Felicity asks. “If I kick him, are you going to have evidence?”

“Yes,” Jenna says.

“Well, fuck,” Felicity says as Lucy. She looks at me and Loki. “Did the monkey sign an NDA too?”

I poke her in the heart. “Listen.”

She goes pink. “Felicity can’t afford to be a full-time ventriloquist,” Tim informs me.

I pull out my wallet and shove a handful of bills at her.

Her eyes go wide for a moment, and then a peal of laughter rings out from between her lips.

Murphy’s growling at me.

Felicity leans over and kisses my cheek. Squeezes my arm, pushes the money back into my hand. Traces a finger up to my elbow. Makes lightning strike my junk.

“You are amazing,” she tells me.

Happy now. Smiling. Confident.

Like she should be.

We both know that handful of cash isn’t enough to support her, but she knows.

She knows it’s not about the cash. It means I believe in her.

It means I got her back.

Murphy growls louder.

“So far, so good,” Jenna says. She’s stepped back between the cameras.

Felicity jerks straight. “So you want us to… What?”

“Be charming,” Murphy grumbles.

“I do that by breathing, but you’re going to need some work,” Felicity says.

As me.

I rub my chest. She makes me okay.

“Is that your monkey voice?” Murphy asks her.

“You can’t handle my monkey voice,” she replies. She cringes, her confidence fading. “That was really lame, wasn’t it? I’m funny on stage. I swear.”

Fucking cameras.

Or maybe fucking Murphy.

He thought she was funny the first night she made Loki talk.

“Felicity, what’s it like being related to a hockey player?” Jenna asks.

“It depends on which of her boyfriends he’s beating off with his hockey stick,” she replies cheerfully as Lucy.

She cringes again. “You can’t use that, can you? I can’t talk about him beating off guys.”

She’s rubbing her hands down her jeans. Sweaty palms. Nerves.

I cover her hand, and she looks at me.

Eyes too wide. Lips too down.

“You play?” I ask.

“Hockey?”

I nod.

“Are you kidding? Felicity’s the best terrible hockey player this side of the Mason Dixon Line!”

She switches from Lucy to Tim. “Sad but true. Nick tried to teach her how to shoot a puck when she was seven, and she hit herself in the face and took out her own tooth.”

“It grew back,” Lucy assures me.

“But her hockey skills never did,” Harold says.

I fucking hate Harold.

A slow grin starts. Like she knows how much I hate Harold, but now she’s getting into the groove.

“What about you?” Harold says to me. “You play hockey?”

“Harold’s a dick. I’m gonna poop in his shoe,” Loki announces.

“Not his fault he doesn’t like having someone’s hand up his ass, Loki,” she says as me.

“I want Lucy! I want Lucy!” Loki chants.

He screeches for real, like he’s laughing.

“Loki, do you play hockey?” Lucy asks.

“Better than Murphy does,” Loki replies.

“Fuck, Felicity,” Murphy mutters. But he’s grinning.

“You shush,” Lucy chides him. Happiest chiding I’ve ever heard. “You went and got yourself benched over something dumb and stupid that you didn’t trust Felicity to take care of for herself. So you don’t get to play hockey either. Now what do you have to say for yourself, mister?”

Murphy clearly knows Lucy, and he clearly knows he’s in deep shit if he’s getting chewed out by the cheerful cat. His eyes narrow. Coming out in fighting mode.

“You know how hard it is to watch guys older than you hit on your baby sister? You didn’t fit in. You never fit in. You were so smart when it came to math and science and history, but with people, you were in over your head. You had no idea—you know what they’d say about you in the locker room? You were eleven. And those fuckers—”

He ducks his head and fists his hands in his hair. He’s on the floor, knees up.

My fists are clenched.

Eleven?

She had assholes looking at her like that when she was a kid?

Felicity’s gone white.

I’m tense as Coach when we’re down by four in the third period. “Who?” I growl.

Murphy finally looks at me. First time all week.

Looking at me like maybe I get it now too.

How much more he’s done that she doesn’t know about. How many nut jobs never got the chance to touch her because he stopped them before they could.

That maybe, just maybe, I’m her latest nut job, and he’s watching me.

What makes you different? that look says. You don’t fucking talk.

Now I’m getting hot in the face.

“I handled it,” Murphy says. “I always handle it, because that’s my fucking job.”

Felicity’s blinking hard. “You—” she chokes out, like she’s seeing it too.

Like she’s understanding too.

“You don’t attract normal people,” Murphy says quietly. “And you don’t even know it.”

I clamp my jaw shut.

He’s not wrong.

I’m not normal. And I’m head over heels dying right now watching the life drain out of her.

She rises.

“Felicity—” Murphy starts.

“I’m done here,” she says to Jenna. “And I’ll withdraw that last application to drive the Zamboni too. Clearly I wouldn’t be an asset to the Thrusters organization.”

“Shit.” Murphy leaps up. “That didn’t come out right.”

Felicity’s already halfway to the door, not looking at any of us. “I think it came out crystal clear.”

I’m on my feet too. Loki screeches. Jenna clips quickly to the doorway. She’s pissed at Murphy, but she’s a pro. Have to look close to see it.

“Thank you for coming in,” she says before Felicity leaves the room.

“Anything for the Thrusters,” Lucy answers cheerfully.

“Shit, Felicity,” Murphy says, “hold on a minute—”

I stop him with a look. Back. The fuck. Up.

The finger he shoots me isn’t personal.

Pretty sure the bird Loki gives him back is.

I cut him off in the hallway.

“Dammit, Ares.”

“Keeping her safe from dicks.”

Right now, he’s being a dick.

He spins and levels a look on me. He’s six-three. Not so small. I’ve got him by half a foot though. My Ma told me it’s not polite to talk about how much I out-muscle him by, so I won’t.

But I could flatten him.

Don’t think I need to.

He knows he fucked up.

Couple dozen times over.

That’s enough for now.